Page 138 of Princess of Vengeance

“But you were already gone by the time we got there,” Willow adds. “Vic hacked into every camera he could find in a five-mile radius, trying to track where they’d taken you.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Vic says with a grimace. “But I finally got a hit on some traffic cams that showed a convoy of black SUVs heading this way. Once we knew the general area, it was just a matter of following the trail of assholes with guns.”

“By the time we found the place, it was crawling with Malcolm’s men,” Willow continues. “We rounded up everyone we could—Carnage, Enigma, anyone who was willing to fight. Then we went in hard and fast.”

I glance over at the members of Carnage and Enigma who came to our rescue. They’re standing together, not as separate gangs anymore, but as a unified force. Some are helping the wounded, others are keeping watch, all of them looking like they’ve been through hell and back.

“Did we lose any?” I ask, my throat tight.

“Three,” Cassandra says, stepping forward. Her elegant suit is torn and stained with blood, but she’s carrying herself with the same poise and grace as always. “One from Enigma, two from Carnage.”

I close my eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of those losses. Three people who died because they followed me into this fight. Three families that will never be whole again.

“We got most of the guards,” Owen adds. There’s a deep cut across his cheek that’s going to leave one hell of a scar. “A few ran when they realized Malcolm wasn’t coming back. The rest are dead or too fucked up to cause any more trouble.”

I nod, taking it all in.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t get here faster,” Willow says, reaching out to touch my arm. “We came as soon as we could.”

Something wells up inside me—something warm and unfamiliar that tightens my throat and burns behind my eyes. Before I can think about it too much, I step forward and pull Willow into a tight hug, surprising both of us.

“Thank you,” I say, holding on to this woman who has somehow become a solid, trusted friend when I wasn’t looking. “For coming for us. For helping.”

She hugs me back, careful of my injuries. “That’s what friends do, right?”

I pull back just far enough to look her in the eye. “Anytime you need us—anytime you or your men are in trouble—we’ll be there. You call, we come. No questions asked.”

I feel my men step up behind me, a solid wall of strength and protection that I know extends to Willow now too. We’re a family—fucked up and scarred and stronger for it. And our family just got a little bigger.

Willow draws back from our hug, a small smile playing on her face as she shoves her blood-spattered hands in her pockets. Her knuckles are raw and split, evidence that she didn’t just organize this rescue. She fought for it.

“We’re just glad we could help,” she says, glancing over at her men who are keeping a watchful eye on the perimeter. “Is it over now? What you were dealing with when you came to visit…”

I think back to that day and everything I’ve been through in these past weeks and months—hell, everything that’s happened since my father tattooed that mark on me. “Yeah,” I nod, feeling the weight of the words. “It’s fucking over.”

“Good.” Willow’s voice is firm. “It seems like everyone got what they deserved in the end.”

Behind her, the Voronin brothers—Malice, Victor, and Ransom—are talking with my men. There’s no backslapping or emotional bullshit, just a quiet exchange of nods and words too low for me to hear. But I can see the respect in their body language, and the acknowledgment of what was risked and sacrificed.

These men, who barely know each other, fought side by side tonight. They bled and killed for each other. That forms a bond that doesn’t need words or grand gestures.

Across the dock, I can see Cassandra organizing the removal of bodies, her voice carrying over the chaos with surprising authority. Owen is helping one of the injured Enigma members to a waiting car, his face set in grim lines.

Willow checks her watch, grimacing slightly. “We should get back. We left Dayana with a sitter, and it’s way past her bedtime.”

I laugh, the sound bubbling up unexpectedly. “You’ve got a fucking body count in double digits tonight, and you’re worried about your baby’s sleep schedule?”

She grins, not a hint of apology in her expression. “Priorities, Quinn. You should’ve seen Ransom’s face when I told him why we had to find a babysitter tonight at the last minute.”

I glance over at the Voronin brothers and then turn back to Willow with a smile. “Domesticity looks good on you guys. In a weird, murder-family kind of way.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” she says, and I believe her. She turns to her men, giving them a nod. “We should get out of here. Dayana’s probably giving the sitter hell by now.”

As they start to leave, I call out, “Willow!”

She turns back with her eyebrow raised in question.

“Thank you,” I say again, because it doesn’t seem enough the first time. “For… well, everything.”

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